Artemis the Loyal (Goddess Girls)

by Holub, Joan

  Aphrodite grinned. “Well, I also told him that if he didn’t sign, I was going to buy Ephialtes a nectar shake at the post-Games celebration at the Supernatural Market.”

  “Ha! That would do it,” said Artemis.

  After Aphrodite left, Suez began to whine and scratch at the door, wanting to be let out. “All right,” Artemis agreed. “But it’s going to be a short walk.” She slung her quiver over her shoulders and grabbed her bow. When she opened her door, all three dogs tore down the hall ahead of her and then leaped their way down the marble staircase.

  Just as she caught up with them at the bottom of the stairs, Actaeon appeared. Instantly, her dogs mobbed him.

  “Down, boys!” Artemis ordered. At her command, the dogs stopped jumping, but they still sniffed at him curiously. “Sorry,” Artemis told him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them.”

  Actaeon shrugged good-naturedly. “Maybe it’s the lingering whiff of eau de stag?”

  She felt her cheeks grow rosy with embarrassment. “I’m really sorry about that—turning you into a stag, I mean. I admit I overreacted.”

  “It’s okay.” Actaeon knelt to scratch Nectar behind the ears. Not one to miss an opportunity, Suez rolled onto his back, and Amby, wagging his tail, braced his front paws against Actaeon’s leg and stretched his neck to look adoringly up at him. “It was actually an interesting experience,” Actaeon said, somehow managing to pet all three dogs at once. “Have you ever been a stag?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t believe how heavy antlers are! And if I could run that fast all the time, I might actually have a chance at beating Ares in the footraces on Saturday.”

  Artemis laughed. But when Actaeon stood again, an uncomfortable silence fell.

  “Well . . . ,” she said, edging for the bronze exit doors.

  “Wait.” He stepped toward her. “I didn’t mean to push you into the fountain yesterday. It was an accident. Someone shoved me. And it wasn’t me that shouted, ‘Protect me, Artemis,’ either.”

  “Good to know,” she said, nodding. “I wondered.”

  “And I’m sorry I laughed.”

  “S’okay. I guess I did look funny.”

  “You could push me into a fountain if you want,” Actaeon offered.

  Artemis grinned. “Thanks, but I think turning you into a stag makes us even.” She decided not to tell him that she’d been trying to pull him into the fountain when she fell in the second time. Her dogs ran over to the front doors, eager to get outside.

  “Going for a walk?” Actaeon asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Want some company?”

  “I won’t be out long—just long enough for my dogs to go to the . . . well, you know.” Her face warmed again. Why had she said that?

  “Oh,” said Actaeon, taking a step back. “Sure. Another time, then.” He turned to go.

  “I almost forgot,” Artemis said. “Thanks for signing the petition.”

  “No problem,” he said. “Hope it helps.” He started up the marble staircase, quietly whistling her favorite Heavens Above song.

  Godsamighty! Artemis thought as she watched him go. Why couldn’t she have just said yes when he asked if she wanted some company? No wonder she was the only one of her friends without a crush. Not that she wanted one, of course. Still, Actaeon was kind of cute. And nice. And her dogs liked him.

  She took her hounds outside and walked them around the edge of the courtyard. After they did their dog business, she quickly corralled them. “Longer walk tomorrow,” she promised. As they reentered the Academy and climbed the stairs to the dorms again, she kept hoping she’d run into Actaeon. What did you expect him to do? Sit on the stairs and wait for you? she chided herself. Besides, she didn’t really have anything to tell him. She just thought it might be, well, fun to hang out with him.

  After leaving the dogs in her room, Artemis knocked on Athena’s door, wanting to talk. She heard voices inside. Then Pandora, Athena’s roommate, opened up. She was wearing blue pj’s, decorated with a pattern of gold question marks. “Want to come in?” she asked. “I was just going down the hall to shower—uh-oh, did I forget my toothbrush?” Even when something didn’t start out to be a question, Pandora could make it into one.

  “Thanks,” said Artemis. She stepped in, and Pandora stepped out.

  Athena was sitting against the pillows on her bed with her knees drawn up. Her purple Revenge-ology textscroll rested on her lap, reminding Artemis that she still needed to study for the quiz. “Hey,” Athena said, glancing up. “We all went to the Supernatural Market for shakes after the match.” She set her Revenge-ology scroll aside and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Some of the guys said Apollo signed up for the Python-o-thon.”

  Artemis flopped down on Pandora’s bed, which was opposite Athena’s. “Yeah, he said he was going to.” She picked up the glittery Magic Oracle Ball sitting on Pandora’s bed. About the size of melons, these balls were made by fortune-tellers and sold in the Immortal Marketplace. “Is there a way my brother can beat the Python?” she asked it. Holding her breath she tossed the ball in the air. Both girls leaned in, eagerly awaiting its reply.

  The ball spun crazily and then spoke its magic answer: “True and False.”

  “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?” said Artemis.

  Athena laughed. “That’s a typical oracle for you. Difficult to figure out.”

  Artemis caught the ball in her open palm again. “No kidding.”

  Athena took the ball from her and set it aside. “What I think is—Apollo must have a death wish to enter that contest. I’m glad Heracles didn’t. He’s mortal and I’ve heard Python can squeeze the life out of a body in less than—oh, sorry.” She put a hand over her mouth as if she’d just realized she might be scaring Artemis. “Don’t worry. Apollo is immortal. So he can’t get hurt too badly.”

  “Not physically maybe. But the embarrassment of losing might kill him!”

  “Then why chance it?”

  Artemis stretched out. Resting her head in one hand, she looked over at Athena. “He’s jealous of Heracles.”

  “Really?” Athena said with a look of surprise.

  Artemis nodded. “You know how Heracles battled all those fierce, awesome creatures when you helped him perform his labors? And then to top it off, Zeus decorated his own temple with paintings of those labors? Well, that’s the kind of glory and honor every godboy at MOA dreams of.”

  “But Apollo’s a god!” Athena exclaimed. “Heracles hasn’t ever said so, but sometimes I can tell he longs to be one himself.” She paused, then added, “What mortal doesn’t?”

  “Being a god isn’t enough for my brother. He wants to win his own temple. Thinks it will earn him more respect.”

  “Respect?” Athena repeated. “Must be a boy thing.”

  Artemis nodded. “I worry about him.”

  “Of course you do,” Athena said sympathetically. “It’s only natural, since you two are so close.”

  Artemis looked away. “Not so much anymore. Lately everything I do seems wrong,” she admitted, tracing a fingertip over the swirly design on Pandora’s blue and gold bedspread. “If I try to help him, he gets embarrassed and mad. He thinks that sometimes I act like I’m his mom, instead of his sister!”

  “Ouch!” said Athena.

  “Yeah,” said Artemis. “And when I tried to use our twin sense to find him tonight, he blocked me out.”

  “Probably thought you were going to ask him to sign our petition,” Athena teased.

  “I was,” said Artemis, grinning at her. “Though I’m not even sure he knows about it yet.”

  Just then, a light tap sounded outside Athena’s window. Both girls glanced up to see a rolled-up piece of papyrus hovering beyond the glass pane.

  “Hold on,” Athena called out as she crossed the room to open her window. As soon as she did, a gusty breeze pushed the scroll through the window, letting it drop to the floor.
<
br />   One delivery done. Gotta run! the breeze murmured, rushing off.

  Athena picked up the scroll, then squeaked and dropped it just as quickly. Tiny sparks fizzed from it, then fizzled out. “Uh-oh.”

  “From Principal Zeus?” Artemis went to look as Athena picked it up again, this time without mishap.

  Athena nodded as she unrolled and skimmed the papyrus sheet. “And it’s not good news.” She let Artemis read the note:

  DEAR THEENY,

  I HEARD A RUMOR ABOUT YOUR PETITION FOR A GIRLS-ONLY OLYMPICS. AS KING OF THE GODS AND RULER OF THE HEAVENS, I ORDER YOU TO STOP GATHERING SIGNATURES. A PETITION WILL NOT SWAY ME. THERE WILL BE NO GIRLS-ONLY OLYMPICS. AND THAT IS FINAL!

  YOUR LOVING DAD,

  ZEUS

  Artemis sucked in her breath. “Ye gods. What do we do now?”

  Athena sighed. “Not much we can do. My dad never changes his mind once it’s made up.” She frowned. “Who do you think told him about our petition?”

  “Not Pheme,” said Artemis. “She supported the idea.”

  “One of the boys, then?” Athena asked.

  Artemis nodded. “Probably.” She just hoped it wasn’t Apollo. She hadn’t told him about the petition, but plenty of other people might have.

  No matter, though. It seemed that their girls-only Olympics idea was doomed before it even got off the ground. She didn’t look forward to telling all the girls who had supported them. They were going to be as disappointed as she was!

  11

  Wedding Talk

  I HAVE NEWS THAT MIGHT CHEER EVERYONE up,” Persephone announced at lunch on Friday.

  “Good. We could use some,” said Artemis. During breakfast it had been all over the cafeteria that Zeus had squashed the girls’ hopes for their own Olympic Games. As a result, there were a lot of unhappy girls.

  Some of them, like Medusa, blamed Artemis for having made them think a girls-only games was even possible.

  “Hera is subbing for Ms. Nemesis again today,” said Persephone, who had Revenge-ology first period. “Since the Games are tomorrow, and it’s also the weekend . . .” She paused for dramatic effect. “Today’s quiz has been postponed until Monday!”

  Aphrodite let out a whoop. “Thank godness. At least something good happened!”

  “Woo-hoo!” cheered Artemis. Her disappointment in the brakes being put on the girl-games had made it hard for her to concentrate on studying last night. And even though everyone else had given up, she was still spending a lot of time racking her brain for a way to change Principal Zeus’s mind. So no way was she prepared for that test!

  Only Athena, who had Revenge-ology right after lunch, was unhappy about the news of the postponement. “I don’t see why we have to wait. Why couldn’t Hera give the quiz?” she grumped.

  Leave it to Athena to actually welcome a quiz, thought Artemis. But maybe if she’d studied for it as much as Athena probably had, she’d be upset too.

  Later that afternoon when Artemis entered Revenge-ology, she immediately looked around for Apollo. He wasn’t there yet. Ephialtes glowered at her as she passed him to go to her seat. “Heard about your dumb petition,” he said in his funny, high-pitched voice. “Bet you won’t get any boys to sign!”

  He was obviously behind on the news, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to be the one to inform him that Zeus had made the girls stop collecting signatures. Instead she heard herself say, “Otus did.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Ephialtes looked horrified. If she didn’t want to make trouble for Otus, she’d better fess up about the petition getting the ax from Zeus. But before she could force the words out, Hera arrived and called for quiet.

  “As most of you have probably heard by now, your quiz has been postponed until Monday,” she announced. As everyone cheered, Artemis’s eyes scanned the room. Still no Apollo. He never skipped. What was up? “Since I’m not an expert on revenge,” Hera went on, “today I think we’ll discuss something I do know about—marriage customs in various cultures.”

  The boys groaned, but the girls whispered excitedly among themselves. Aphrodite sat up a little straighter, looking intrigued. Personally, Artemis thought it was an off-the-wall subject to pick for Revenge-ology. Still, it was a subject Hera was an expert on, since she owned a bridal shop.

  “I know this might seem an odd topic for this class,” Hera continued, as if she’d read Artemis’s mind. “However, I believe that anytime different cultures can reach a better understanding of one another, it can prevent misunderstandings and therefore defeat the need for revenge. Let’s start with Greek customs,” she said. “As you know, a Greek marriage ceremony begins after dark when the veiled bride travels in a chariot to the home of her groom.”

  Several girls sighed, thinking this romantic.

  “Her family and friends walk beside her, carrying torches to light the way.” Hera paused. “Who can add more?”

  Pheme raised her hand. “There are musicians, right?” The words puffed from her lips in little cloud letters that lingered above her head. “Playing lyres and flutes.”

  Hera nodded.

  “And along the way, other women throw flowers and fruits to the bride,” said Aphrodite.

  One of the boys in the back of the class made a muffled groaning sound and some other boys snickered.

  “Hey,” said Artemis, frowning over at them. “We do the same thing for athletes in a victory parade.”

  Hera smiled at her. “Yes, that’s right. An interesting parallel, isn’t it? What do you think about that? Is a wedding ceremony a woman’s victory parade?”

  Ares nodded. “Yeah, women win when they marry, and that means men lose big!” More hoots of agreement from the boys.

  Aphrodite shot Ares a look. He’d better be careful, thought Artemis, or his relationship with Aphrodite will soon be off again.

  “I’d rather seek victory in athletics than in marriage,” Artemis insisted.

  Before anyone could respond, Ephialtes spoke up. “We giants don’t have a bunch of complicated customs. When we want to marry someone, we just carry her off.”

  The boys laughed, but the girls were indignant. “Without even asking her to marry you?” Aglaia protested.

  “That’s barbaric!” Aphrodite exclaimed.

  “Demeaning and disrespectful too,” added Artemis.

  “Yeah,” chorused the other girls. They glared at Ephialtes.

  He hunched his giant shoulders. “I didn’t make the rules,” he muttered in a tiny voice. “That’s just how we do it.”

  “Actually,” said Hera, “there’s a similar custom in Sparta. After a man shows off his strength in a fight that’s mainly for show, he tosses his bride over his shoulder and carries her off.”

  Artemis frowned. Whose side was Hera on? Ephialtes, of course, beamed at her.

  “So what marriage customs do you think Principal Zeus would follow if he were to marry again?” Pheme asked slyly. Her words, embroidered with wispy wedding bells and pale doves, hung in the air for several seconds before fading.

  Hera quirked an eyebrow at her. “I suppose that’s a discussion for him and his bride-to-be.”

  The discussion continued on and class time flew by. When the end-of-the-day lyre bell sounded, Artemis and Aphrodite started toward the door together. “Zeus and Hera make such a cute couple,” Aphrodite said. “I bet they get married.”

  Artemis recalled Hera’s kiss on Zeus’s cheek during the wrestling matches. “Yeah, it wouldn’t surprise me.” She glanced over at Hera, who was writing a note at Ms. Nemesis’s desk. Making a sudden decision, she said, “I’ll catch you later, okay? I need to talk to the teacher for a minute.”

  Without giving Aphrodite a chance to ask why, Artemis zoomed straight for Ms. Nemesis’s desk. Seeing her, Hera looked up and smiled.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Of course, Artemis. What about?”

  Shrugging off her quiver, Artemis dumped out the arrows, then stuck
her hand down inside. “About this,” she said, coming up with several crumpled sheets of papyrus. “They’re petitions for a girls-only Olympics.”

  Taking the crumpled sheets, Hera smoothed them out on her desk and studied the signatures.

  Artemis couldn’t tell if she approved or disapproved. “It’s not just my idea,” she said quickly. “Athena, Aphrodite, and Persephone all helped. Lots of girls are interested. We even got a few boys to sign our petition. See?” She pointed to the boys on the list. Then she hesitated. “But Principal Zeus doesn’t care. He says our petition won’t sway him because his mind’s already made up.”

  Hera’s eyebrows rose. “Is that right?”

  Excitement grew in Artemis as she sensed she was getting somewhere. Hera looked annoyed! “I was kind of hoping you could talk to him? I know he never changes his mind, but if you tell him a girls-only Olympics is a good idea, maybe he’ll listen.”

  Hera sighed, tapping the petition with her pen. “I do think this idea is a good one. But Zeus and I have already—”

  “And a fair one,” Artemis interrupted.

  “Tell you what,” Hera said, gathering up the papyrus sheets, “let me keep these, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Score! thought Artemis. Maybe her idea wasn’t doomed after all. “There’s one thing, though,” she had to add. “If Principal Zeus sees the signatures, I won’t be getting the students who signed into trouble, will I?”

  “No. I give you my word on that,” Hera said solemnly.

  As Artemis slung her quiver over one shoulder it occurred to her that before she’d cut Hera off she might have been about to say that she and Zeus had already discussed the idea of a girls-only games. That would explain the argument Artemis and Athena had witnessed at the wrestling match last night!

  Artemis didn’t want to cause more trouble for Hera, but then she seemed like a goddess who could stand up for herself. “Thanks,” she said. “I—that is, we girls—really appreciate this.”

  Hera nodded. “I’ll do my best.” After a pause, she added, “But I can’t promise I’ll be successful. You know that, don’t you?”